


like threads, weaving

by buttered_onions



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, tumblr requests, what is this rarepair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2018-10-17 07:48:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10589598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttered_onions/pseuds/buttered_onions
Summary: A collection of Shiro and Ulaz prompts from tumblr.01: language. the castle's translators break.02: naps. shiro's forced to take one.03: panic attacks. shiro's not in a good place.04: happiness. ulaz finds shiro.05: rescue. shiro's escape goes differently.





	1. Language

**Author's Note:**

> This viking ship of a rarepair will end me. Thanks a lot, friends.
> 
> Note about pairing tags: I've tagged this work as both Shiro/Ulaz (romantic) and Shiro&Ulaz (platonic) just for the sake of more people being able to find this rarepair. In my eyes most of this is platonic, but that tag's empty, soooo. If you're looking for the hardcore stuff, that is not here. Thanks!

_“I did not know you spoke Galra,”_ Ulaz says, later.

 _“A - I’m - not much,”_ Shiro says, hesitantly. That isn’t the right word. _“Very - basic. Simple?”_

 _“A little,”_ Ulaz corrects, for him. _“When did you learn?”_

Shiro starts, surprised. Ulaz’s yellow eyes are curious, not cruel.

 _“The translators did not work in the cells,”_ Shiro explains. Even that simple sentence sends panic fluttering through him, purple fluorescents flickering past the edges of his peripheral. He swallows, flesh hand gripping metal. _“We had to - I learned. Not a lot. Just enough. Did you not know?”_

Ulaz’s expression softens immediately into horrified regret.

 _“I did not,”_ he says, in careful Galra. His syllables are slow, deliberately placed. _“I - apologize. I was not aware.”_

 _“It is fine,”_ Shiro manages. It’s over now. He closes his eyes - purple hallways flash behind his closed lids - and opens them again. Breathes in at the blue lights lining the Altean walls. _“I did not - know? Think of it?”_

 _“Remember,”_ Ulaz prompts softly. The word sounds strange tripping off a Galra tongue.

 _“I did not remember,”_ Shiro agrees, and the word nearly chokes him.

Ulaz is quiet for a while. The aqua-blue lights in the hallway pulse ahead of them, warm and calm. The quiet hum of a ship in motion thrums beneath their feet. Allura’s piloting them back to the Olkari, the nearest place with a prayer of fixing the translators or perhaps even providing an upgrade. Shiro’s not holding out hope the repairs will be quick. Even if Slav is still residing with the Olkari where they’d left him, ten thousand years of obsolete machinery won’t be an easy feat to fix.

While Ulaz and the Alteans can communicate neatly via a shared fluency of their mother tongues, the rest of them aren’t as lucky. Pidge is holding up somewhat with her rudimentary Altean; the other Paladins haven’t a hope. Shiro is the nearest thing his friends have to a translator, even if it had taken him the better part of an hour to come to the realization in the first place. _(Varga_ did it for him - the one word he could understand out of Coran and Allura’s first conversation. When Ulaz had repeated the same word in a different tongue - all of a sudden Ulaz’s strange syllables made a heart-stopping sort of sense. Shiro’d had to sit down with it, shocked and sudden. He’d brushed off Keith’s concerned grip to his shoulder - and blurted straight out into the middle of Allura and Ulaz’s argument in fragmented but clear Galra: _“how long did you say this would take?”_ )

Long story short, Shiro’s been at this all day.

 _“You shared a cell with many others, for a considerable time,”_ Ulaz explains, slowly. Shiro strains to catch every syllable. _“I am not surprised, now, that this would be a gift of yours. How many other languages do you speak?”_

 _“Not fluent,”_ Shiro warns him. The memories are flickering at the edges of his vision with each new word, each new verb form and sentence structure butchered in his attempts to communicate between Galran and English. He’s exhausted.

 _“Of course,”_ Ulaz says, gently. _“Could you guess?”_

Shiro shakes his head. _“Not from - out here. Not from space. My - Altean, it isn’t - Pidge is better. I speak - a handful? From - cell-mates. Pieces. Probably. I am not sure.”_

 _“What about from not ‘out here’?”_ Ulaz prompts, carefully structuring his question.

Shiro swallows. _“From Earth? Mainly two.”_

 _“Two?”_ Ulaz’s pale eyebrows raise. _“Which is your native tongue? Will you - ”_

He devolves into a string of new words Shiro can’t follow.

 _“Slow down,”_ Shiro says, desperately. This is too much.

Ulaz smiles, calm and reassuring.

 _“Speak,”_ he translates, simply. His large hand grips Shiro’s knee, supportive and grounding. Shiro’s panic stills. _“Your native tongue. I would wish to hear it.”_

 _“Oh,”_ Shiro says, gratefully, and makes the mental switch into Japanese.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this or ~~are in this stupid ship with me~~ feel free to leave a comment! We can suffer together. 
> 
> Original prompt is [here.](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com/post/159089512708/hi-if-you-are-still-doing-the-micro-fic-thing) Follow or come say hi on [tumblr](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com) if you'd like to see this stuff as it it comes out! :)


	2. Naps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 02\. naps. shiro's forced to take one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still platonic :) thanks!

“I’m going to kill him,” Shiro says. The effect is rather ruined by his enormous yawn.

“No, you will not,” Ulaz says, patiently. Shiro’s head is drooping down towards his chest again; he picks it up with an effort just in time. It’s fascinating to watch. “Who would pilot the Yellow Lion?”

“You could,” Shiro offers. Ulaz nudges his shoulder just slightly and tips Shiro down all the way onto the couch, lying prone. Shiro goes without complaint, curling up on his side. He must truly be out of it.

“He’s not - he’s - ” Shiro yawns again, cutting off his words. “ - Yellow would like you.”

“I do not need the approval of another space cat,” Ulaz says, glancing around. Humans prefer to be warm and covered when sleeping; ah. There’s a blanket over the back of the couch. Ulaz snags it with his long reach and spreads the thin but soft material over Shiro’s form. Shiro curls into it reflexively, scarcely aware of his own actions. “Yours is enough.”

“Hunk’s not allowed back in the kitchen until Coran labels every jar,” Shiro says.

Humans are so strange.

“They are labelled,” Ulaz reminds him, amused. “Merely in Altean.”

“Hunk’s not allowed back in the kitchen until he _learns,”_ Shiro corrects, fiercely. It’s somewhat diminished by the slurring of his words, tumbling already towards sleep. What Hunk had innocently thought to be a different form of flavoring for lunch had turned out the complete opposite; Ulaz supposes they’re lucky only one of the Paladins had sampled the food as Hunk prepared it.

It's just unfortunate that it had been Shiro.

“Fear not,” Ulaz says instead. He slips off the edge of the couch, crouching instead to remain at Shiro’s eye level. Shiro cracks open a bleary eye with a supreme effort. “Your Blue paladin has offered to be your taste tester for all ‘surprise ingredients’ from this point on. In future, I highly suggest you take him up on the offer.”

Shiro’s quiet for so long Ulaz is afraid he really has fallen asleep. But no; the Black Paladin’s eyes are open, if a bit unfocused where he’s staring at Ulaz’s knee.

“‘m not really mad at him,” Shiro says, at last. His eyelids flutter again, drooping shut. He peels them back open. “‘m - ‘was an accident. ’m mad at me.”

Ulaz quirks a pale eyebrow. “You are mad at your body’s inability to remain conscious when subjected to an incredible dose of _b’lire_ powder?”

“Had things to do,” Shiro murmurs. He’s glowering. It’s ruined by the fact that he can’t keep his eyes open. “The princess - still planet-side - can’t lead training. Things to _do.”_

Ah. Ulaz cannot exactly blame him. The responsibilities of leadership can hardly be set down even for accidents outside of one’s control. They have had this argument before.

“Rest,” Ulaz says. The blanket does not fully cover Shiro’s knee at this angle; Ulaz tugs it up, tucking the fabric in. Shiro hums, an unconscious sound from the back of his throat. “I will lead training for you this afternoon.”

“Hate drugs,” Shiro whines. It’s the only complaint he’s uttered since the entire mistake began.

The powder’s working fast, pulling him down despite all of Shiro’s efforts to fight it. If Ulaz hadn’t personally witnessed Hunk chuck the _b’lire_ jar violently into the garbage chute, he’d throw the damn thing out himself.

“I know,” Ulaz begins.

A small chitter catches his attention; Ulaz’s ears twitch. The little blue mouse - Chulatt - perches carefully on the edge of the couch, waving a paw in his direction. Its two friends are helping the third and last mouse - the large one, Platt? - up onto the armrest by Shiro’s head. Chulatt mimes standing guard, striking a fierce pose and waving its tail dramatically.

What odd creatures. Still, Ulaz is grateful for them.

“You will not be alone,” Ulaz says, softly. Mission accomplished, the green mouse - Plachu, Ulaz recalls - slides down the armrest to tuck itself against Shiro’s neck; the red one, Chuchule, chatters something up at Platt. Platt yawns a little mouse-yawn from their content position in the corner of the couch. “Rest, Shiro. I will handle training. And I will be here when you wake.”

Chuchule curls up on Shiro’s shoulder, slipping just under the edge of the blanket. Shiro’s eyes drift shut.

“Make ‘em run laps,” Shiro mumbles with absolutely zero malice, and then he’s out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt is [here](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com/post/159191576862/not-sure-if-you-have-enough-time-give-me-uliro). Come say hi [on tumblr](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com)! :)


	3. Panic Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 03\. panic attack. shiro's not in a good place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted [here.](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com/post/159213947903/omg-so-much-microfic-how-about-some-shiro-ulaz)

“Shiro. Shiro!”

Shiro comes back to himself with a panicked start, lungs burning as he struggles for air. His heart’s pounding, fit to burst right out of his chest. His eyes skitter frantically over a blurred nothing. Where - where - ?!

“Shiro,” the voice repeats, insistent but calm. Something squeezes his hand. “Shiro, you must breathe. Can you do that? Inhale.”

Shiro sucks in a ragged gasp of air, lungs heaving, trying.

“Good,” the voice says, fierce but hushed. “Let it out. Again.”

Shiro obeys. Inch by inch he breathes; inch by inch the voice talks him down. Inch by inch his heart stops pounding. Gradually his surroundings clarify into dull sense. He’s sitting on the dirt floor, back pressed hard against two walls. He’s curled up into the corner. He can’t move his hands -

No. His right arm rests palm-up by his side, heavy and limp. Only his left hand is being held. Long fingers grip his, and the slight tip of claws brush against his wrist.

Someone crouches in front of him, their face furrowed in deep concern.

“Ulaz,” Shiro gasps.

“That is correct,” Ulaz says, quietly. His yellow eyes betray no alarm, merely worry. “Are you with me?”

Shiro’s left hand is caught up in Ulaz’s own, the Galra’s grip firm but not restrictive. Shiro’s knees are tucked tightly into his chest; Ulaz is crouched before him, immobile and steady. Even squatting down, Ulaz is so much larger than Shiro is. His knees press right above Shiro’s own, and his larger form neatly blocks Shiro’s view of the cell door. The edges of the door’s active energy field shimmer brightly around Ulaz’s form, a purple halo Shiro will see in his dreams for a week -

“No.” A hand grips his chin. Shiro flinches, bucking, but Ulaz’s claws are gentle. “Look at me. Do not look at the door.”

“H-how are you here?” Shiro manages. His tongue’s dry, lips cracked.

“I came after you,” Ulaz says, as matter-of-fact as if he were merely discussing the weather.

 _Came after you._ But the cell door is active, and locked. That means -

Shiro fights against Ulaz’s grip, weak and shaking. Ulaz releases Shiro’s chin, but remains crouched before him, still blocking Shiro’s view of the active door. Even so - “You s-shouldn’t be here! What have you done?!”

“Do not worry about me,” Ulaz says, sharp. There’s no sign of injury on his face or hands. Ulaz is unharmed except that he’s imprisoned here, too, trapped just like Shiro. “This was my choice. Shiro, listen to me. The rest of your team is coming, but your Paladins will not get here in time. Your captors are coming for you first, unless we can stop them.”

The brief hope winging through Shiro’s chest sputters, caught. He thinks about crying: not in front of Ulaz. He thinks about running: the door is locked. He thinks about fighting -

“My arm,” Shiro whispers. His right arm is a deadweight at his side, metal fingers limp and lifeless. He cannot move them. “They - they did something-”

“I know,” Ulaz says. His calm voice is a rock, steady despite the undercurrent of urgency running through his words. “I can fix it, but it will hurt. However, if I re-activate your arm, we can use it to get out of this cell and find somewhere to bide time until your team arrives. Your captors will not hurt you.”

_It will hurt._

_Your captors are coming for you first._

Not even a choice. Shiro laughs, the shakiest of exhales. “Do it.”

Pride flits into Ulaz’s eyes, chased by a clear measure of confusion. Maybe laughing about their impending demise and torture through one way or another isn’t the reaction Ulaz expected. Oh, well. Ulaz should’ve thought of that before he ended up in this cell with Shiro.

“Do you understand me?” Ulaz repeats. “It will hurt. The hard reset was not designed to be easy on the host.”

“I heard you,” Shiro confirms. It takes all his energy but he pulls his head away from the wall, staring back at Ulaz with determination. “Do it. Pidge and Hunk can fix it later.”

Ulaz’s gaze softens inexplicably.

“I will assist them,” he promises. His hand hovers over Shiro’s immobile arm - and then, for the first time since Shiro came to, Ulaz hesitates. “You are sure?”

_It will hurt._

_Your Paladins will not get here in time._

“No other way, right?” Shiro says, hoarse. “My hand can open the door. Do it.”

“Then take a deep breath,” Ulaz says, and gently - carefully - he takes the elbow of Shiro’s Galra arm into his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked what you read please consider leaving me a comment! Comments make me so happy and help me keep writing. This pairing doesn't have enough support as it is; feel free to show it some love with a comment, or your own works, or just several exclamation points. (I'm right there with you. this shiiiiiip)
> 
> This is the last of the microfills I have for this pairing at this time. If I write more I will post them to this same work. Please feel free to stop by my [tumblr](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com)....I don't have any Uliro prompts in my inbox at the moment....just saying ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 04\. happiness. ulaz finds shiro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted [here](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com/post/159944138098/heya-dont-know-if-youre-still-doing-prompts). written for an anon who had a bad week :)

“Have you seen Shiro?” Ulaz asks.

The planet of Thuresh is small, a glorious little place near covered in auburns and coppers thanks entirely to the abundant forests and fields the Thureshi carefully cultivate. The Galra were after the healing properties found in the stunning garnet leaves of their sacred plants; Voltron’s liberation had come not a moment too soon.

The Paladins and all the inhabits of the Castle have landed on Thuresh after the space battle had been won, spending the afternoon replanting and rebuilding. Somewhere along the way Ulaz lost track of time. He’d started the afternoon somewhere near to Shiro, helping to plant new trees brought in from farther greenhouses. At some point Shiro’d drifted away so Lance could show him something; then Ulaz had assisted Hunk in lifting large structural components back into place; then Pidge had wanted his assistance. Now four vargas have passed and Ulaz has no idea where his Black Paladin could be.

“I saw him,” Lance offers, when Ulaz finally tracks him down. Most of the Thurseshi natives dress in pure white wrappings, with intricate splotches of color bold against their shoulders and elbows. It’s a beautiful garb, but frustrating when one is trying to locate a second specific set of white-uniforms-with-colored-markings. The Blue Paladin is standing near one of the reconstructed buildings, chatting amicably with Hunk (who also grins knowingly at Ulaz when Ulaz poses the query. Ulaz still is not used to that sort of smile from Shiro’s friends).

“He’s that way,” Lance says, gesturing. “Think he took his helmet off. Want me to go with you?”

“No,” Ulaz says. “I will find him. Thank you.”

“Tell him I’m starting dinner,” Hunk hollers after Ulaz’s retreating form.

Ulaz follows Lance’s directions down the old village road, new paving stones mixed in with the old. He does not find Shiro at the path’s natural split into two, although Allura looks up from where she is deep in conversation with Coran and a circle of the Thureshi leadership.

“He is not with me,” Allura says, when Ulaz inquires. Her earrings flash in the late afternoon light. “Pidge has eyes on him, I believe. Down in the valley.”

Ulaz nods his thanks and continues on.

The right branch of the road leads him down into the valley. The Green Paladin is there, oohing over a datapad one of the Thureshi is presenting her with. The sparkle in her eyes is probably due entirely to the projected data, and less the shifting sun.

“He’s up there,” Pidge explains, when Ulaz asks, and points. “Tell him he’s not subtle, will you?”

Ulaz looks. The little valley is bordered by a near wall of beautiful cliff, now planted again with copper-leafed bushes and budding plants. The tallest tree in the entire village sits atop said cliff, its leaves large and perfect where its branches overlap. Underneath the tree’s wide boughs a singular white-clad, black-edged form is just visible.

With Ulaz’s long limbs ascending the cliff is no problem, even when he takes care to avoid the newly planted foliage.

“Hi,” Shiro says, beaming when Ulaz makes his way up to him. “You could’ve walked up here, you know.”

The other side of the cliff isn’t a steep ascent but a hill, sloping gently. Its surface is covered in short beige grass, waving eagerly in the breeze.

“This was more direct,” Ulaz explains. Shiro’s seated cross-legged on the edge of the cliff, relaxed and easy. Light through the leaves dapples against his face. His helmet rests on the grass beside him. “I am to inform you it is time for dinner.”

Shiro’s gaze flickers up, checking the position of the sun. “Already? You could’ve called.”

“Patching me in to your comm channel does no good if you take your helmet off,” Ulaz chastises him, gently.

“Were you worried?” Shiro asks, teasing lightly. The breeze plays in his white tuft of bangs - so different than Ulaz’s own head fur. Shiro’s eyes are shining with amusement even now.

Ulaz deigns not to answer and simply folds his long legs beneath him, dropping down next to Shiro on the little cliffside. Ulaz’s legs are too long to sit crossed like Shiro is; their knees bump, even so. Shiro’s smile softens imperceptibly.

“What are you doing up here?” Ulaz asks.

“Pidge told me to stop fussing,” Shiro explains, “Keith said to sit down. So here I am. Not a bad view, huh?”

The view is incredible.

The main village spreads out far below them. Already buildings that were damaged by the invading force have been re-stabilized, framework from broken trees propping up huts and homes. New plants brought in from greenhouse-storage line the streets, fill gardens in rebuilt yards, settle into new rows in fields stretching far as the eye can see. This is a village that values the peace found in its orange and red leaves, afternoon sun filtering in warm and welcoming. The growth is the village’s, and the planet’s, commonality. It is their vitality. It is their home.

From here, also, Ulaz can easily pick out each and every one of the Paladins. Coran’s bright blue vestments mark him easily where he is still standing at the fork in the road; Allura is at his side, the light catching in her hair as she nods. The Castle is visible off in the distance at the other end of the village, parked neatly beyond a broad and furrowed field. Two figures are making their way towards the ship. Ulaz’s superior eyesight can just pick out the yellow and blue markings on their armor. Lance knocks into Hunk, shoulders bumping. Knowing the Paladins better as he does now, Ulaz can easily imagine their laughter.

The Green Paladin is still at the base of Shiro’s cliff, pointing and waving excitedly as Pidge gleefully peruses the plans presented to her. A little searching and Ulaz spots Keith, too. The red armor is a bit of a challenge to pick out against the fields, especially considering the Red Paladin is kneeling down among the plants. Carefully he sets the little bush in his hands into its new home, the last in a finished row stretching the width of a field behind him. He’s been busy.

They all have.

“You are keeping watch,” Ulaz summarizes.

“Maybe,” Shiro says, grinning.

It is an excellent vantage point. The entire village is visible from here, including the winding path Ulaz had taken to find Shiro in the first place.

“You saw me coming,” Ulaz says.

Shiro’s grin turns wolfish. Unashamed.

“I knew you’d find me eventually,” he says.

“We always do,” Ulaz reminds him, smiling too. He bumps his shoulder into Shiro’s gently, too - so gentle. Shiro isn’t small for his kind, but Ulaz could still knock him down with hardly any effort. Ulaz has to be careful. “Next time, answer your comms.”

“I would have,” Shiro promises, and now he’s blushing. The flush on his cheeks is faint, but warms Ulaz regardless. “I was listening. I would have picked up if there was need.”

“You missed the dinner call,” Ulaz reminds him. “We should go if we are to be fed in time to make it back for the evening ceremony.”

“Mm,” Shiro agrees. The afternoon sun is finally dipping down, the edges of two of Thuresh’s moons just visible beyond the horizon. It is the third moon the Thureshi watch for, the third moon they honor each evening after sundown. Ulaz is looking forward to it. “I’ll come in a minute. I just want to sit here for a while.”

“Then I will stay with you,” Ulaz says, simply. He readjusts his posture to sit more comfortably. Their elbows brush, this time; the space between them is close. Shiro smiles, like he always does, ducking his head unconsciously to hide it. Happiness is a gesture he, too, is relearning. This is a routine newly familiar to them. This is a moment Ulaz would not miss for anything.

“You don’t have to,” Shiro says. The setting sun plays across his features, dances in his hair and highlights the fine strokes of his eyelashes. Ulaz could stare at them for hours. (He has.) “I’m fine here. Don’t miss dinner on my behalf.”

“I am staying where you are,” Ulaz promises him, and is rewarded again with Shiro’s beaming smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to leave a comment if you enjoyed this little fluff! or come say hello on [tumblr](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com). Never enough Uliro in our little rarepair ship. ;) stay tuned!


	5. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 05\. rescue. shiro's escape goes differently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing some end-of-year cleaning. This was originally posted [here](http://butteredonions.tumblr.com/post/159762731868/hihi-you-mentioned-on-ao3-you-have-no-prompts-for).

Kolivan is not pleased when Ulaz calls him from halfway across the galaxy.

“There were no other options,” Ulaz repeats, for the third time. Kolivan stares back at him from the communication screen, silent and impassive. His mask is down, but it’s no improvement: Kolivan’s face is nearly as stoic and unreadable as if he had the mask up.

Nearly. Ulaz isn’t fooled. The tick in the corner of Kolivan’s eye and the small flare of his nostrils give him away.

 _“Be that as it may,”_ Kolivan says. His tone speaks volumes, too: brusque, blunt, syllables sharper and harsher than usual. ‘Not pleased’ is an understatement.  _“I cannot permit you to come blindly back to headquarters after such a foolish sacrifice.”_

“My actions were not foolish,” Ulaz insists, defensive and heated. The comm unit in the stolen Galra ship is small, made smaller by the tracking devices Ulaz ripped out and dismantled with his bare hands. The ship was intended for short journeys; it was never meant to make the long trek Ulaz faces now. “Against your timing, perhaps, but not foolish. Thace is still on board. He will remain as informant for as long as physically and feasibly possible.”

_“The choice was not yours to make.”_

“And yet I have made it.”

 _“At what cost?”_ Kolivan asks. The comm image blurs for a tick before it steadies, stable.  _“Your plan has failed. This was your alternative?”_

Ulaz casts a glance over his shoulder. Shiro’s asleep, propped up against the far wall - ‘far’ is a generous statement. This ship is too small. Shiro’s tucked his back into a corner, his arm cradled to his chest. He’s sleeping off the drug and what Ulaz is fairly certain is a concussion.

“No,” Ulaz admits, quietly, “This was not part of my plan.”

Kolivan sighs, less an exhale and more the irritated flare of his nostrils again.  _“Then you have sacrificed your position for nothing.”_

“I have sacrificed it so that we might gain,” Ulaz snaps. “To turn the tides, by removing what Haggar hoped to be her greatest weapon and retaining him for our own use. Saving his  _life._ The Champion would not have survived her second experiment. Would you leave another member of an innocent species to die?”

 _“We cannot save the lives of everyone,”_ Kolivan reminds him. Ulaz resists the urge to close his own eyes, roll them towards the ceiling in exasperation. Kolivan’s ‘caution’ has saved the Blade of Marmora from discovery innumerable times, but sometimes - sometimes their leader’s ‘caution’ is a frustrating, stupid unwillingness to act.

_And he calls me foolish._

Ulaz draws in a careful breath. Lets it out. Patience. Patience will win this fight.

“We must save Shiro’s planet,” Ulaz insists. “Zarkon will go after the Blue Lion now that he knows its location. He will stop at nothing to obtain it. Once he has two Lions, do you really think he will stop until he has all five? How is sitting by and allowing that to occur not worth the risk?”

 _“Then take him there,”_  Kolivan says.  _“Take the Champion to his home. Let him defend them, if he can.”_

“He cannot,” Ulaz says. ‘Asleep’ is a generous term; Shiro’s unconscious, more like. The drugs still course through his system, wearing at the concussion, weaning away the pain of the violently broken arm. Shiro does not feel it now, but he will when he awakens. “He was injured during our escape. An accident. I cannot abandon him now.”

Kolivan does not answer. Ulaz resists the urge to fidget and maintains eye contact, steady and immobile. This is right. A surprise, yes, but right.

 _“You are certain Zarkon knows of the Blue Lion’s location,”_ Kolivan says, at last.

“Yes,” Ulaz repeats, firm. Shiro sleeps behind him, barely more than two arms’ length away. The stolen ship is small. “I would not have abandoned my post for any other reason.”

Kolivan is silent for so long Ulaz fears the connection has frozen.

 _“What is your plan, then?”_ Kolivan asks, at last, and Ulaz fights down a grin.

Patience always wins.

“Send ships to Earth,” Ulaz says. The starmap on his display shows the small planet, out of reach and the wrong direction for Ulaz and Shiro’s little pod. “Stop Zarkon before he reaches the planet. I am bringing Shiro back to headquarters.”

 _“The ships we can discuss,”_ Kolivan says.  _“The rest - ”_

“It will be at least a quintent before we arrive,” Ulaz says, cutting Kolivan off. Ulaz was prepared for this, too. “I have disabled all tracking beacons on this ship, and we will switch over to a second one in the Arkelion system. I can plot additional double-backs into our course than what I already have, but cannot tarry too long.  Shiro needs aid, quickly, and I have no such supplies on hand.”

 _“The Champion,”_ Kolivan begins, but Ulaz isn’t done.

“Furthermore, Zarkon has every reason to believe we are dead. I detonated two explosions to cover our escape. Thace himself will vouch for me. Our escape, while perhaps ‘ill-timed’, could not have been more secure.”

Kolivan is silent. Behind Ulaz Shiro groans, the noise weak and involuntary. Ulaz doesn’t turn. The new hitch in Shiro’s breathing, the slight shift of fabric against the grating of the floor, is enough.

The sound must travel through the speakers. Kolivan’s eyes flicker to the side, over Ulaz’s shoulder.

 _“He is with you,”_ Kolivan says. A statement.

“Yes,” Ulaz says, simply. “Shiro needs aid. Would you deny it to him?”

Kolivan doesn’t speak. His gaze remains fixed over Ulaz’s shoulder, face creased in a deeper frown. Immovable, except for that tiny twitch at the corner of his nostril. A widening of his eyes, ever so slight.

The risk is worth it.

“Would you deny yourself the chance to meet the Champion in person?” Ulaz teases. “He defeated Myzak. He survived the Twins of Terror. He even defeated-”

 _“I will speak with the others,”_ Kolivan snaps, and closes the comms.

Ulaz chuckles to himself and ends the connection, too.

“Is it true?” a hoarse voice asks, from behind him. Ulaz finishes powering down the communications, taking his time.

“I was not expecting you to awaken for some time,” he admits, turning round. “How are you feeling?”

Shiro blinks blearily up at Ulaz from his position in the corner. He’s only half-awake by the barest of technical definitions.

“ ‘m here,” Shiro says - whatever that might mean. His words are soft and slurred, his eyes half-lidded and straining to focus. The drug remains at work, then. Ulaz had calculated a lower dosage for today intentionally, but his calculations appear to have been off. Does the drug work differently when its recipient receives only part of a dose? Or is this the result when its recipient crashes from an incredible adrenaline spike immediately after? Shiro’s file is unavailable to consult; Ulaz makes a mental note regardless.

“Is that true?” Shiro whispers. He swallows. The motion looks painful. “What you said.”

“Many things are true,” Ulaz answers obliquely. He sets the ship on autopilot and rises from his chair. Shiro shrinks further into the corner, a reflexive action matched with his panicked intake of breath. Ulaz freezes, waiting.

Of course. Shiro scarcely has reason to trust him. Ulaz freed him, yes, but Ulaz also has…they have a history, regrettable as it might be. One action, however gracious, however grand, can barely override that.

 _Patience._ Patience wins the battle.

“You will have to be more specific,” Ulaz prompts, crouching to a lower height. He makes no move to mask his actions or intent. Even crouching Ulaz is still taller than Shiro, but this height should be less intimidating.

If Shiro’s even tracking that train of thought. One of his pupils isn’t dilating correctly, a funny observation and size compared to the other. Ulaz frowns, leaning in a little closer.

“Haggar,” Shiro clarifies. The word’s a struggle to get out of his throat. “Her - experiment. What - what was her plan for me?”

Ulaz considers. Shiro meets his gaze, inasmuch as he can with his eyes struggling to remain open. He is exceptionally vulnerable like this; injured, ill, three feet away from someone who until this morning had been most definitely one of his most frequent tormentors. The smell of his fear and panic in their small space is bitter and sharp. This may not be an arena, but Shiro is fighting his own battle in this ship: a battle he also has no control over, sailing through unknown territory towards an equally uncertain welcome.

Protectiveness clenches at Ulaz’s heart, fierce and bitter in its own way. The force of it surprises him.

 _Patience._ Ulaz cannot change the past, no, but this much he can atone for.

“Haggar wanted your other arm,” Ulaz says.

Shiro flinches violently. The motion hurts him; he cries out in pain. Ulaz lurches forward, stopping himself just in time. Shiro only curls in on himself more, clutching his forearm to his chest.

Ulaz cannot reach Shiro. Not yet. Shiro is so vulnerable, like this. He is so  _small._

“Is that w-why she broke it?” Shiro gasps. Tears prick at his eyes. His voice is so quiet Ulaz might have missed it if not for his own superior hearing.

“She did not,” Ulaz corrects, frowning. “The injury occurred during our escape. An accident I did not plan for. You twisted at a bad angle and broke your arm after the sentries attacked. The explosion caught you off guard.”

Shiro just stares, wide-eyed and unfocused. A young animal - no. A fellow being, a  _person_ , trapped and in pain.

“Oh,” Shiro whispers, at last. He’s shaking somewhat, another involuntary response. His body’s been pushed past its limits. Ulaz wishes again for Shiro’s file.

“And you are not going to remember this conversation either, from the concussion you sustained crashing into the ship itself,” Ulaz says, softly. The amount of gentleness in his words surprises even him. Huh. “Here. Your arm will need a sling if it is to heal properly, and not aggravate further until I can get you to a healing pod. Would you not let me set it?”

Shiro stares at him for so long Ulaz is afraid he, too, has been frozen in communication. Lost in time and mistakes neither of them can amend.

“You saved me,” Shiro whispers. His eyelids flutter, miserable; he’s fighting the concussion and the remnants of that drug desperately. He’s losing.

“I did,” Ulaz agrees, and even permits himself a small smile. “May I help you now, too?”

The surge of protectiveness flares up again, heated and determined. That isn’t the surprise.

The gentle flush of warmth in his chest when Shiro finally nods, and allows Ulaz closer -

_Oh._

Well.

 

That’s new.


End file.
